Goodbye Salamander
by Gumusservisaudade
Summary: Come, whoever you are! Wanderer, worshipper, lover of leaving. This is not a caravan of despair. It doesn't matter if you've broken your vow a thousand times, still and yet again come! - rumi
1. Chapter 1

NOTICE: The following story is pure fiction and is not based on any true events. The characters are the property of their creator- J.K. Rowling. I do not mean to make any profit by using them in the story.

WARNING: This story might contain mature scenes; in terms of: language, depiction of sexual intimacy, and depressive characters. I would request you to not go any further if you are averse to any of these things, or if you are under 18 years of age.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This fan fiction has been previously published on . The writer's account has been compromised and she could not log in to update the story. Hence, a new account at was created. This writer's former username on was – you can call me jenny.


	2. It started in fourth year

It started in fourth year, their meetings, or so Hermione liked to call them because they were not really meetings, just glances and looks given to each other while passing in the corridors and small one-line conversations during the classes if they happened to be close to each other. Hermione hadn't really started them deliberately or with any intention of having any cordial relationship with Malfoy, but they just happened. From what she recalled, neither she nor Malfoy had been exactly friendly with each other, but they always seemed to have something to say to each other. Most of the times she had felt like hitting him again like in third year but she still carried on those secret rendezvous and conversations with him. She remembered how it had happened the first time...

It was the Yule Ball, and the bell chimes told 11'O clock. Hermione had sat down with Harry and Ron, feeling hot from dancing when Ron had started on her for 'fraternising with the enemy'. In the end she got up, frustrated, and came out of the Great Hall, and into the Entrance Hallway. A lot of girls were standing there. One of them noticed her and nudged her partner, immediately the whole group was glaring at her. She recognised them, it was the Viktor Krum fan club and these girls constantly followed him everywhere he went. As the girls started whispering to each other about Hermione, (taking care to be loud enough- 'what does he see in her?', and 'he rejected me for _her_!' and 'I don't see anything so extraordinary.') she couldn't take it. Her mind was on Ron, she had been wondering how to identify the reason behind his stupid behaviour minutes ago and whether it showed that he was jealous- of Hermione or of Victor, she didn't know that, when the girls started talking about Krum. And suddenly she remembered what Ginny had whispered to her before leaving for the ball-about the possibility of Viktor kissing her. Even thinking about kissing anyone let alone _Viktor Bloody Krum_ made Hermione blush.

Suddenly the Entrance Hallway seemed to have turned hotter, stifling. She needed air, cold air. She moved away immediately towards the entrance door, turned the fat doorknob and stepped outside. She wasn't sure that she was supposed to be out here but she could tell that there must be couples out here, in the bushes. The thought almost made her go back but she needed the cold air. It was December and she was clad in a thin, no arms floaty dress but she still walked away, eager for the coldness to engulf her, to make her alert. She walked down the stairs briskly, afraid that anyone would see her, and turned left to go behind the castle where she knew the area would be deserted because there were no bushes there. Already the cold had started affecting her; she rubbed her palms on her bare arm, breathing through her mouth. As she came to the clearing beside the tress, she sighed, the night looked spectacular. The sky was inky black with stars twinkling like diamonds. It was all quiet here, and the place suddenly seemed spiritual, soothing, as compared to the faint din of the party that she had left behind. In the distance, she could see Hagrid's hut, all black now, giving it a very medieval look as if it belonged to an ancient time. She inhaled the smell of air around her and stood by the cold wall, taking its support, finally feeling calm after the whole day.

Suddenly someone coughed; the sound came from her right, from the trees. Hermione jumped and gave a tiny shriek. Then came the sound of jumping, and she heard a boy swear.

"What the fuck!"

"Who's there?" Hermione asked. Already her wand was out and pointing at the direction from where the sound came.

"I'd like to know the same thing," said a drawling voice.

She immediately recognized his voice. "What are you doing here, Malfoy?" she snapped.

"Who's that?" he asked, a little more irritated. Then a beam of light fell from his wand on her, Hermione straightened her hand, ready to tackle any curse if it came sailing.

"Well, well, well. Look who we have here." He said. "The Lady Mudblood herself." Hermione knew that talking to Draco _Son-of-a-bitch_ Malfoy was useless. All she'll get from him are taunts and insults. She immediately turned away to go back in the castle, knowing it was useless standing there anymore. Malfoy followed her.

"Off to your surly boyfriend?" He drawled from behind.

Hermione made no reply.

"I wonder why he chose you as his special date when he could have had dozens better."  
"Don't let him get your buttons," Hermione told herself. Her walk became brisk.

"Oh, in a hurry, are we?" He had noticed. "Why the sudden hurry, when you'd been standing there for Merlin knows how long?"

Again she made no reply, but silently climbed the steps to Entrance gate which were bathed in moonlight.

"Oh, I know, you must have been thinking how to get the answer of the clue from Potter to give Krum, right, Granger?"

Hermione turned fiercely, and skidded slightly on the cold glazed surface of the marble floor under her, and caught hold of Malfoy's neck to support her body accidently. He had been just behind her so that meant that meant that there was not much space between them. Hermione had not meant to do it, but in order to balance herself she ended up holding his neck. For a moment, Malfoy looked frightened.

The expression he had on his face was too much, she couldn't help laughing. As she laughed, Malfoy regained his manliness and pushed her away, making a disgusted face.

"How dare you touch me, Mudblood?" He said.

Unlike before, his words deeply affected Hermione. She liked to say they _affected_ her, but it actually means that Malfoy pissed her off real bad. It entered her mind, the indifferent disgust in his voice, full of malice and hatred. Her hand rose involuntarily, she didn't consciously remember making the decision, but her hand was up and she was going to slap him again, (were they making it a ritual, a slap for Malfoy from Hermione every year?) when he caught it. He looked slightly surprised at his own action for a moment but then her hand was in his vice like grip and he was twisting it.

"Ouch," Hermione said softly, and immediately regretted it because of the look of satisfaction it brought on Malfoy's face.

"Yeah, _ouch_." He said, twisting her hand more. Her wand dropped from her other hand as she tried to free herself from his grip. "You were going to slap me again, huh, Granger? Again? How dare you, you filthy-"

But he suddenly stopped. Hermione looked up; she had been looking down, biting down a cry that was in her throat as she tried pry Malfoy's fingers from her hand. It was then that she noticed how close they both were standing to each other; she was almost nose-to-nose with Malfoy.

The expression she saw in his eyes did not match with the action he was doing at the moment. He was looking at her so intently, so deeply, directly into her eyes, that she stopped struggling. His breath fell on her face, and just like the cold, it made her hair stand up.

Malfoy had also noticed how things had progressed and how they were practically standing there half hugging-half wrestling. He jerked his hands away from her and stepped back. He stared at her as if seeing her for the first time or as if she had changed in some way in front of him. She stared back, astonished, trying to decipher the strange look on his face.

Then he side-stepped her and opened the entrance door and walked away as of nothing that had just happened had happened. The din of the party still going on inside in the great hall hit Hermione, who had her back to the door, then the door shut back and there was silence again.

She kept standing there transfixed, whether in shock or just to give Malfoy enough time to move away so that she doesn't see him on her way back. She was not going to return to the party, let Viktor Krum go to hell. Her hand had started paining slightly and she was done for the night. She turned and stooped to pick up her wand and then slowly walked to the door and pushed her hand out to open it. She didn't need to; it was opening on its own. It was Hagrid, coming out of the party with a lost look on his face. Hermione cowered slightly, cursing her ill luck to be seen by Hagrid there, but he passed her without noticing her. It seemed like the ball hadn't gone nice for most of the people.

She shut the door after her and made her way across sleepy couples surrounding the entrance hall area. She took the stairs, holding her left hand in right, making way across girls sitting surrounding a crying girl in the middle. If she had turned back to look at the great hall's entrance, she would have seen the gray eyes that followed her till she went out of their vision.


	3. Sometimes Hermione wondered

Sometimes Hermione wondered what would have happened if she would have accepted Draco's invitation that night. Though she knew that she wasn't supposed to (or rather, she shouldn't) remember all those times spent with Draco Malfoy but sometimes she just sat down and thought, really thought (and in a deep corner of her heart, resented) what exactly had made her refuse Draco. He was all for it, she knew it, he was all for it even after two long years. And she had been expecting it from him because she had always been able to tell his needs, his wants, _his thoughts_, just from the expressions on his face. When she used to see him in the corridors of the ministry during the years she was getting her higher education in Magical Law, she could see that he wanted to resume the relationship they had once had, she could see the mute plea the silver eyes said, that he wanted to be at least on talking terms with her. One part of her had felt like going out to him again, lending him an ear, a shoulder to lean on, just like she had done in school, but the times had changed. She was being hailed as the superwoman of the Golden Trio, and his and his family's reputation had just been washed off. She wasn't being a hypocrite, god knows she never cared for the Malfoy family reputation; she wasn't influenced by things like that. But the divide between the Malfoys and the side to which she belonged had been recently highlighted. She belonged to the Light Side, _She wore the_ _Golden Halo,_ according to a Daily Prophet reporter whereas _he_ had become the washed up death-eater, the one being subjected to the integrated hate of the whole of wizarding people. They were too long gone now; they couldn't sneak from their friends and meet in secret annexes anymore, they had to accept what they should've accepted years ago: their friendship was just wasn't meant to be.

Before she retired to bed that night of the Yule ball, she wrapped a woollen muffler on the arm which Malfoy had twisted. She cursed him inwardly and laid down, alone in her dorm as all the girls were still down at the ball. For a moment she felt like going to the Gryffindor boys' dorm to meet Harry and Ron- but Ron would be there and she really didn't want to see him right then, right away after they'd had a fight. She'd come up in the common room, clutching her arm, and a few minutes later Ron was there minus Harry and looking like he wanted to take off right where she had left him. During the whole heated conversation she had just hated him, completely. She hated him for being so pissed at her for going to the ball with Viktor Krum, she hated him for standing there the whole time, shouting 'fraternising with the enemy' shit, she hated him for not seeing that she was clutching her arm in a way which clearly told(according to her) that it was hurt.

But no, Ron the Moron had to be stupid, that was his defining characteristic. And it was not just him who was so proficient at being moronic, it was Harry too. Even he hadn't noticed her clutched arm. She sighed as she shifted in her bed, why did she expect so much of Harry when she didn't from Ron? After all, he was also just a boy. _With more intelligence capability_, she thought. As she thought of intelligence, she also thought of why she hadn't just jinxed Malfoy when he caught her arm. Why hadn't she just done some charm to keep his hand off? Sometimes, Hermione thought, my muggle habits get the better of me. And then she thought of what Malfoy had done. Why was he staring at her? And continuously at that. And then he had abruptly left her hand and walked away as if suddenly embarrassed at something that he had done.

Just then, the dormitory door opened and Partvati and Lavender burst in, both giggling. "The Durmstrang boy was so nice, and Harry was such a prat." Parvati seemed to be saying. "Wonder how did Hermione's go?" Lavender's voice said.

Hermione clamped her eyes shut under her poster bed curtains. Quite rightly, Lavender drew apart a little of one of the curtains and peaked in. "She's here, sleeping. If she's already sleeping, then it means that it didn't go well." She said. Hermione noted that she sounded jealous.

"How did Krum meet her anyway?" asked Parvati. "She isn't even a quidditch fan."

It took them quite a lot of time to shut up, but Hermione kept lying there with her eyes shut, pretending to be asleep and soon sleep claimed her.

The next time that she met Malfoy was at Thursday's potions class. It wasn't a meeting exactly, because she had been made by the Great Potions Master, Severus Sodding Snape, to sit away from Harry and Ron to sit with Pansy Parkinson across the room who happened to be sharing a seat with Malfoy. As she picked up her bag and made her way to Parkinson's seat, she noticed two things: the scowl on Parkinson's face and the sudden completely interested look that Malfoy had started giving his potions book determinedly. She sat down beside Parkinson, seating herself at some distance but still felt her scoot away as if Hermione was something smelly. During the whole class as Snape taught he kept looking in her direction as if checking whether she was still there. And then Hermione understood: he must be looking at Malfoy. Why, though, she thought curiously. When Snape's glances persisted, Hermione thought of chancing a glance at Malfoy. But that would've meant that she would have to lean forward in her seat and turn her head in Malfoy's direction which would make her intention very obvious to the Slytherins sitting with and around her, if not clear. At this point of time Snape ordered the class to write down what he had just taught them. As Hermione took out a scroll and a quill form her bag she realised that she had left her inkpot with Harry. Great. This meant that now she would have to ask Snape's permission to get it, giving him another perfect excuse to deduct points from Gryffindor not to mention humiliate her and possibly Harry too. Sighing inwardly, she put up her hand. She had no choice. Immediately, Snape's eyes swivelled to her face.

"Yes, Ms Granger?" As she opened her mouth to speak, she noticed that half the class' attention was now fixed on her. Harry was completely looking back, his torso turned towards her.

"I would like to take my inkpot from Harry, sir."

"And why would you like that, Ms Granger?"

"Because I don't have it with me, sir."

"And why are you without your inkpot?"

"Because Harry has it, sir."

Half the class burst out laughing, (okay, all the gryffindors) and then immediately shut up at the look Snape gave them. Hermione had not meant to be cheeky, but the words had slipped out of her mouth before she could think. Snape was looking a little pissed, but that surprisingly gave her a slight sardonic pleasure.

"Finally taking on the Gryffindor qualities, Ms Granger?" He said. "Not a big surprise, considering your elegant company." He taunted, his eyes lingering on Ron. Parkinson chuckled.

"May I take my inkpot, sir?" Hermione asked again.

"Twenty points from Gryffindor." He snapped. Behind his back, an inkpot elevated itself from Harry's desk and floated itself towards Hermione. She had not been expecting Snape to do that, she had been thinking she'll _accio_ the inkpot. It came towards her, but did not quite reach her and stayed in the air, hovering. As it hovered above her, she reached out for it, but it suddenly shot out of her range.

"Stand up and get it Ms Granger," Snape ordered. Of course, this had been Snape's real intention, to mock her like that.

Hermione stood up. Even then it was not near her. The inkpot still hovered away from her, so much that she had to stretch her hand to take it. As her hands clamped around its cold surface, she noticed that Malfoy was looking at her hand. Then she got why: it was her left hand, the one which he had twisted the night of the ball, and which now showed a bandage on it. Nobody had noticed it because she wore long sleeves because of the weather. But as she had stretched her hand towards the inkpot, the woollen bandage had started to show. She immediately jerked her sleeve straight, hiding the bandage again. And then almost involuntarily, her eyes met Draco's. He had also been looking at her. But as soon as she looked, he looked down. Her hand still at her sleeve, Hermione sat down.

From that day on, Hermione started to feel a little uneasy around Malfoy. Not that she was around him much, but whenever she was, she would avert her eyes. Maybe because Malfoy had taken upon himself to stare at her or her hand whenever he passed her in halls or during classes. The next time she saw him was on the snow covered grounds for their Care of Magical Creatures class. As harry, Ron and she approached the place near Hagrid's hut where he usually took their lessons, she saw that Malfoy was already standing there, flanked with those thugs, Crabbe and Goyle. He had been speaking, but as he saw her approach, he stopped. And then his eyes dropped to her hand, and then up at her face. She looked away, silently wishing that this Malfoy-staring-at-her everytime-he-sees-her-thing was completely her imagination. Thankfully the boys were not paying attention as Professor Grubbly-Plank had just came into their view, announcing that she'll be teaching instead of Hagrid today.

But that was not the only time he stared at her. During supper that very date, she had been looking at the back of Viktor Krum's head as he sat at the Slytherin table, thinking about whether he really deserved the fanatic status he had. Hermione had found him sweet, he was eager to please her and get in her good books, to know about her and he was impressed with her, in other words, completely smitten. Hermione dropped her eyes to her plate, her cheeks going red. When she looked up again, he had stood up and gone as per his habit to leave as soon as his dinner was finished. As he left and cleared the view, Hermione's eyes straight met Draco Malfoy's. Her stomach lurched unpleasantly; as she realized with a panic that he had the same expression on his face, that same deep, unfathomable expression. It was there for a moment, and then he looked away. Hermione also dropped her eyes hastily; her heart beating a lot faster than usual. For a split second, she thought of telling Ron and Harry about it-but the idea itself was enough to get her back her senses. Malfoy is just looking; she reasoned to herself, he isn't doing anything threatening. And besides, what would she tell the boys? That Malfoy is staring at her? She took a deep breath to calm herself; Malfoy had just become a little fascina- she could not even bring herself to complete the thought. Whatever weird _phase_, Malfoy was going through, would pass, she told herself. And then Harry turned to her, (he had been staying quite silent these days) and asked her something. Hermione was so preoccupied about Malfoy acting creepy that she didn't hear him the first time. He had to repeat his question twice for her to hear it right.

The next day, as she left for her arithmancy class after lunch usually early than she did, because she had to understand a concept which she had found in a library book from Professor Vector. After a few minutes, she realized someone was there in the lonely yard (which she passed daily for her arithmancy class). She looked back and saw a blond boy in green robes. Shit. It was Malfoy.

Her heart beat quickened and she started to walk faster, feeling a strange kind of thrilling fear. A few minutes later, as she was taking the stairs, she looked down, and again saw Malfoy. This time he tried to hide himself. Losing all control, Hermione took off her shoes and ran. She ran so fast and without any clue as to where she was going, she just wanted to get away from Malfoy. Somehow she emerged on the floor which had Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, and Hermione made a beeline for it. She did not know why she was afraid of what Draco might do, maybe he was just going some other way and she jumped to the conclusion that he was following her. But anyway, Hermione burst into Moaning Myrtle's bathroom (thankfully, she was not there) and shut herself up in a cubicle. She kept sitting there, holding her wand, with her sock getting wet from the water on the floor, till she was absolutely sure that she had heard the sound of the bell ringing and the hustle-bustle of the crowd. Even then, she checked the crowd before she stepped out.

The next day was a holiday. She spent some time with Viktor , he seemed very eager to meet her on the snow-clad grounds. They sat down on a bench and Viktor started talking excitedly. After talking to her for a while, he suddenly said-

"Yoo look exactly the way I thought you vood."

"What?" said Hermione. He was looking at her with an intense expression, kind of demanding.

"Against the snow, you look exactly the vay I pictured you vood look."

Hermione could only gape in reply before he leaned in.

Later, as she left for the castle, she thought about what he had said. It had been a very abstract kind of compliment (or rather a comment) to give to a girl. But he came from a country where winters were dominant, and it kind of made of sense for him to wish to see her against the snow. "Oh, the colour of your cheek," He had laughed as he had pulled away after they had kissed. Hermione's face went hot again as she opened the door of the entrance hall. Her stomach lurched at the thought of telling Ginny about it. How would she do it? Or maybe she won't. But Ginny had told her all about her first crush and the date she'd just had with him. And Hermione had promised- a sudden noise behind her broke her reverie, and she looked behind to see.

It was Malfoy. Again.

* * *

AN: Hello. :) I would love to hear what you think of the story yet


	4. He woke up that night

He woke up in the night, as suddenly as if someone had shouted in his ear. But there was no one there, except the figure lying next to him. He recoiled as he felt the warmth from the body, but then remembered it was the girl mother had set him a blind date with. She had long black hair, now strewn across the silk pillow under her. He checked under the sheets, she was not clothed, and neither was he. How come she landed here? He thought as he turned away from her. For the past four years, he had never had a single relationship which went longer than three weeks, a month at maximum. And frankly speaking, he had never felt like it. His mother seemed to think that he was in love with Pansy Parkinson who went out with him in his seventh year, though it wasn't exactly 'going out' when all they did was snog in his dormitory in their free classes. Since the time mother had attended Pansy's wedding in the summer this year, she had turned fanatic about getting him married. Though, he thought, father's death had also contributed. His father had been found dead in his bed one morning when he didn't wake up. Mother had been devastated, but she had pulled herself together and moved on. For my sake? He thought.

The body beside him moved. A hand came from behind and rested on his waist. He waited for some moments, and then pushed it away. When the girl made a sound of protest in her sleep, he threw the covers off, and walked away in disgust.

It's not like he didn't want it, the relationship, the love, and he had tried too, on his own. After his trials were over, he had gone out with Daphne Greengrass, his former classmate. But Daphne understood him sooner than he did, and broke it off with "Maybe some other time, Draco." There had never been an 'other time'. The last he had heard, she was going to marry Blaise Zabini this fall, i.e.: in two months. He had not seen her in years. That was the last time he had actually tried to be in a relationship. Since then, something had come off, it wasn't Daphne, he knew that, but what was it? He never felt anything for a woman other than lust and not even that completely; it was just want which momentarily compelled him. If it was not that, then he would simply just start living to work, and even work too, bored him. There was nothing wrong with him, at least not something at which you can put a finger, but there was something wrong with him, colossally. He did not like people's company after some time, it felt like noise. He had abandoned Goyle after the war as had to happen, seeing that Goyle had so many accusations of assisting the Carrows in torturing the students at Hogwarts. And after his own trials had ended, nobody had wanted to be his friend, except the people he had known from school: Blaise, Pansy, and Daphne. Pansy had tried to revive their old relationship after Daphne had broken off with him, but he had already lost it by then. He didn't admit it to himself, but he had changed, drastically.

After all that, he took a training of nine months under Perry Hart, the second-in-command of the Department of Magical Calamities and Rescue Work, and started his job as a young intern in the field of rescue work. His father had been famous, and subsequently, Draco's trials had made him famous too, and coupled with his looks and ash-blond hair, Daily Prophet had made him the famous sexy deatheater or something like that. His sullen attitude had added to the image. Since then, the media had followed his every move. But Draco, who had always been jealous of Harry Potter sharing the limelight, had stopped caring. He didn't care whether he had the best or worst or the easiest job in the world (as long as he had one), he didn't care whether he had a girl on his arm or not, he didn't care whether his friends got married or ran away, or died in crater somewhere on the earth.

He blamed the war. Everybody blamed the war for everything that had gone wrong, and so did he. His father had thought that he had become like that because of his loss of prestige at the trials. His mother thought he was in love Pansy. Draco had laughed at the idea.

He had become exactly the opposite of what he had thought he will be, and that was scary enough. It was scary because it meant that he was losing control. The fact that he cannot bring himself around to enjoy a sunny day with friends or come home to some woman who has waited for him the whole day and will receive him with a hug, (though his mother had done that once but that doesn't count) that he does not like his job and does not even give a shit about that, that he does not care how he looks, or how people perceive him, or whether his hair are tidy or if he wants to eat or what he wants to eat, his mother, his mother's health, his father's last words...

"Draco?" A voice came.

He broke from his reverie and turned back to see the girl he had slept with standing under at doorframe of his balcony-was he in the balcony? He hadn't realized he had come out in the balcony.

"What?" He said, looking into her face intently. Her name was Ellen, or Ella or something like that, he remembered. She worked at St. Mungo's in the psychiatric ward. She was standing behind the door, shielding herself, wearing his bathrobe, he noticed.

"It's cold," She said.

"That's what you have woken up to tell me?" He asked.

The girl stared at him. "No, Draco, its-its four in the morning and you're standing out there in the cold-**naked**!"

_What?_

He hadn't realised that he was naked. No wonder he didn't feel so great at the moment.

The girl had come out now and put a hand on his shoulder. She looked concerned.

"Are you alright?"

"Yes, I'm fine, thank you." He took her hand off. "Lets go in."

She followed him in with an uncertain expression on her face.

"Draco," She started as he shut the balcony door.

"What?" He said, rather sharply.

She had halted at the sharpness in his voice. "Is there anything that you'd like to tell me?"

"Like what?" He said and turned away from her. She followed him into his bedroom.

"Anything." She said. "Is there something that's troubling you, because you can tell me anythin-"

"Your psychiatric crap may have worked in melting my mother's heart, Ella," He snapped. "But I'm not your patient. If I needed to see a shrink, I'll go see one."

Her eyes had narrowed, and she stood in front of him with her arms crossed. After he had done speaking, she spoke.

"Elda." She said. He stared at her for a second, confused. Then he realised that she was telling him her name. He started to speak, realising that he may have hurt her, (though not because he cared for her feelings but because he didn't want a lecture from his mother), but she was already pulling her under-shirt over her arm. He stood there watching her svelte figure stoop and pick up clothes from a pile beside his bed. Then as he approached her, really feeling guilty for being a jerk, she turned around.

"I had a nice time tonight." She said, surprising him. He had not been expecting these words after he had literally insulted her.

"Um, I'm-"

"You have a nice choice, you know," She continued, walking away from him to pick up her cloak which lay sprawled in his sitting room floor. "Of restaurants and wine. You really know your heavy drinks." He felt slightly awkward as he watched her get fully dressed while he stood stark naked. As she came back into the room, he hastily picked up his bath robe which she had left on his bed.

"But you need to wind up." She said.

"What?" He said, fumbling with his bath-robe. "Uh-Ella-Elda," She held his gaze questioningly.

"Forgive me, for- for before-"

"It was nice meeting you, Draco Malfoy." She said, ignoring what he had just said. He shook her hand numbly, feeling very insulted. "Hope we have more of these times."

The next morning he woke up, feeling confused at why he was sleeping wearing his bath robe, then he remembered last night, and sank into his pillows exhaustedly at the memory. Life was becoming a drab for him. He was doing things just because he had to, and was supposed to. Though when he thought about it as he stood under the shower some minutes later, he thought that that is all he had been doing all along, the whole of his life. He had been doing things, being the way he had been, just because he had to, because he was_supposed_ to. All those acts, the muggle hating drive within him, his actions, they had all happened because he had done what he had perceived he _should_ do. What he had really_wanted _hadn't mattered then because he hadn't really known what to want. His actions had just been a weak mimicry of what people around him wanted him to be like.

Now? What about now? What about today? Does he know now?

He turned to the wall urgently; his hands eager for the cold surface as hotness surged through his body and accumulated in his loin. Of course he knew what he wanted. He licked his lips, trying to control the feeling gaining strength inside him. But it was no use anyway, however hard he tried. He had tried to resist it before too, but he always succumbed to it, because it was pointless. He didn't have the strength. Or maybe the desire was too strong. A small pant escaped from his lips.

Hermione. He wanted Hermione Granger.

Badly. So badly that it felt like pain. The pain intensified as her picture appeared in his mind, of her tousled hair, her pink cheeks, swollen lips...

His cock rose at the image in his mind as if following silent orders. His lips opened in a mute cry and eyes clamped shut. He tried to ignore his pulsating member, but as its throbbing became unbearable, he took it in his hand.

What could anyone do in his position? Or rather his predicament? He could not have her beside him; he could not touch _her_, but the least he was allowed, was to touch himself.

He reached the ministry in a bad mood, which was regular. So nobody paid attention to the half-scowl on his face as he entered his department, hands deep in his robe pockets. The Daily Prophet had branded it the 'Malfoy walk' in his days of trial from the pictures taken of him whenever he used to come out of the trial rooms. Draco reached his office and shut the door behind, wishing the new interns who were waiting for him outside his office, to be gone. He did not want to see anyone. He felt like disappearing away to some distant island whose name people could not even pronounce. He sat down in his chair and swivelled to face the wall, his empty grey wall, and put up his elbows on the chair arms, and closed his eyes.

A moment later, a memo came in flying for him through the fire-grate. He snatched it bad-temperedly, inwardly cursing the person who had sent it.

It was from Perry Hart, his boss. He was asking him to come meet him on the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Why the hell, Draco thought before throwing floo powder into the grate and stepping into the flames.

He saw the pudgy behind of Hart's neck as he appeared in the grate. He stepped out, dusting his robe and wished the man his boss was sitting opposite, Diamond Brusly, the head of Department of Magical Law Enforcement.

"Goodmornin' Mr. Malfoy." He replied, gesturing for him to take a seat. "How are you taking to the job?" He asked.

You're asking two years late, Draco thought. "Very well, sir."

"Mr. Hart here tell me that you are going to receive a promotion," said Brusly. Draco looked at Hart. "I was going to tell you today," He said.

"First of all I must congratulate you, young man,-"

"Thank you sir,"

"-you must have done a really great job, becoming the Head of a department within two year of joining is a really big thing-"

"What?" said Draco. "I'm becoming the- what about you?" He turned to Perry Hart. He smiled.

"I have been promoted too, I'll be joining the Department of Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures as its Head."

Before he could himself, Draco had spoken. "What about Hermione Granger?"

Brusly laughed. "That's the reason we have called you today, actually-"

His heart started thudding.

"The thing is, Hermione Granger had applied to join _this_ department six months back, right after she successfully won that Betty elf case," Brusly said. "And she passed the exam too, I don't how she does it, she is so good at _everything_!" Brusly looked giddy with praise. Then he controlled himself.

"Anyway, she has joined my department, Mr. Malfoy, and Mr. Hart will be joining the Department of Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures from tomorrow while you have become the Head of Department of Magical Calamities and Rescue Work, today. Congratulations.

"I called you here today because of the Marilou Belinda Baker Case, you know the one where the squib woman is accused of killing her half-blood magical son? You will be jointly assisting it."

At that point, there came a knock. Draco stiffened, anticipating who it must be.

"Come in!" Brusly called.

The door opened to reveal a bushy haired woman, slightly red in the cheeks, standing at the door holding a folder to her chest. Immediately, Draco lost thread of what was being said, his eyes drew to the lips that uttered something to Brusly, the wide brown eyes, and the lovely colour in the cheeks-

"Ms Granger, I'm hoping you have met Mr Malfoy here?"

Ms Granger's eyes looked at him in surprise, she had noticed him, then the surprise was gone, and she was wishing him a good morning.

Draco, not being able to speak anything, barely nodded.

"Well, Ms Granger, you will be working with Mr Malfoy for the Belinda Baker case, he has just joined as the Head of Department of Magical Calamities and Rescue Work, and he will be helping you on the case."

"Oh really?" She said. Draco noticed the slightly high pitch, but welcomed it, it was the first time in years she was speaking to him. "Congratulations, Mr-Mr Malfoy."

Draco felt like telling her that he had wanked at her thought in the morning. He felt like getting up and grabbing her in his arms. He thought of that evening in sixth when he had kissed her, how she had responded, how her breath had sounded as he had taken her shirt off...

"Thank you, Ms Granger." He replied.


	5. I cannot believe

"I cannot believe it," Ginny said, staring at the front page of Daily Prophet.

"Imagine the surprise when she turns up late in a funny looking dress and starts talking as if she's drunk." said Ron.

"It looks funny to you only because its muggle!" Hermione said.

"No, Hermione, it is a funny dress." Harry said, smiling. "What made you do all that?"

Hermione sighed in irritation. It was a Sunday and they were sitting in the Potter's living room, having a brunch. And they were all, one by one, expressing their horror at Hermione's behaviour with the reporters. Yesterday night she went back to her parents' and asked her mother about it, and her mother had admitted that she had given her a couple of sedatives.

"I told you guys, it wasn't me, it was the valium."

"Oh!" Harry made a sympathetic face. "That explains why you slept afterwards."

"What is valium?" Ginny asked, putting the pair down in disgust. She had been doing that a lot these days. She was disgusted with the milk, disgusted with the mornings, disgusted about eating anything which wasn't sweet, disgusted with the flowers Harry used to get her, disgusted with the diagon alley even, when Hermione went to shop with her recently. She had turned into this easily disgusted person since the last two months, when her belly began to get big. And she complained to Hermione about having gotten married to a wimp who couldn't 'get it up to point north' for her whenever she wanted. And that was most of the time too. Hermione had listened sympathetically, but she had blanched inside at the thought of Harry and Ginny doing it.

"It's a pill." Hermione said.

"What kind of pill?" Ginny asked, interested.

"It makes you sleepy," Hermione said hastily, before Ginny could get any ideas.

"And stupid," Ron muttered absently. Hermione threw a cushion at him.

"Oh," Ginny said disgustedly. "Isn't it too hot in here?" she asked, opening the first few buttons of her frock. Everybody ignored it, except Harry who looked at Ginny furtively before speaking to Hermione.

"Brusly told me, congrats."

"What?" Ron asked, straightening up.

"I got the job," Hermione told him.

"When?" He cried.

"Brusly owled me yesterday night," Hermione said. Ron's jaw dropped.

"And you didn't tell me!" Ron said accusingly. "I was there! I came last night! Why didn't you tell me?"

Hermione's cheek grew pink. Though she and Ron had been going out for the last three years, they were not living together. After she had got her parents back from Australia, she started living with them after she completed her seventh year. Then she had got the job at the Department of Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. Meanwhile, Ron had started working with George at the joke shop and it wasn't till she was six months into her job that they did it. It was in the room above the joke shop and George had almost come up the stairs, calling for Ron. And since then, Hermione had tried to spend some 'time' with him every day before she went home to her parents. Then she had had an accidental sleepover one Saturday when she was too drunk to remember that she had to get home before eleven, and when she had gone home the next morning, there was her father, waiting for her in the living room as if she a sixteen year old teen. She hadn't liked it, and told it to him to his face and then she was being branded a loafer, she was destroying herself, and when she retaliated, _she was whoring all over London_, and she was _second hand good_ and it was time for her to get _alternate accommodation_. And after she had, had come the question of whether Ron would move in, but then Ginny found out that she was pregnant with Harry and Mr Weasley, even though he liked Harry, had thrown a big drama and refused to talk to his daughter till Harry sucked up some courage and went to him asking his daughter's hand. It had been slightly beside the point then, when Ginny, trying to hide her baby bump with all that lace on her white gown, had married Harry. It was either she and Ron get married, or nothing. And Hermione was not willing to get married.

"Do we have something on the stove?" Ginny asked, turning her torso to Harry. From the view that Hermione got of Ginny's freckled chest, when she turned towards Harry and her, was very, um, arousing. Not for Hermione, obviously, but the effect it had on Harry, she understood, was what Ginny had been hoping for.

"Um," He gulped once. "the- the chicken soup, I think,"

"Chicken soup?" Ginny said, her voice going slightly husky. "Can you go check on it for me, Harry?"

Behind her back, Ron was looking at his sister with a concerned expression, and before Hermione could catch his eyes and imply 'let's go,' he had spoken.

"Ginny, are you okay?"

"I'm fine," Ginny answered, smiling lazily at Harry. "Just feeling a little hot, that's all."

Harry and Hermione got up at the same time.

"I'll go check the soup," Harry mumbled.

"Let's go, Ron." Hermione said.

The next day in the evening, Hermione lay in bed, naked, watching Ron dress. As she watched him move around her bedroom picking up his belonging, speaking to her at the same time, she thought about where her life had leaded her. She was going to marry this man in a few months time, and will surely, in the near future give birth to his children. How it can be possible, Hermione thought, watching Ron check his reflection in the mirror, that she was marrying _this_ man of all? He didn't get her sometimes, in fact most of the times, didn't seem to have her zeal, he wasn't ambitious like her, and he was content with just being a shopkeeper. Once Hermione had wondered what kind of a man she would have really liked, it would've been someone who understood her, got her moods just by walking into the room, got her jokes, and Ron had never done that. The only man who had been able to do all that was Harry, but, no, he wasn't the only, there was Malfoy too...

Hermione jerked her attention to what Ron was saying to her, she didn't want to think about Malfoy. Ron was sitting on the bed, whispering something, Hermione heard a soft "I love you," before he leaned in towards her for a kiss. She responded eagerly, again feeling liking getting him naked but he pulled away as the kiss began to get passionate.

"Merlin," He gasped.

She just looked at him, then leaned forward again. He pulled back again after a few moments, laughing.

"I should just move in with you," He said, getting up, smiling.

_If you did, I'll have to move out_, Hermione thought and then immediately, _where did that come_ _from?_

Ron threw her a t-shirt from the floor. "Dress up, we'll go down."

"Why?"

"I'm hungry, come on."

"I'm not cooking anything for you," Hermione said point-blank. "I have to start my report on that Belinda Baker case."

Ron, who had started frowning when Hermione had refused, exclaimed suddenly. "Oh! Hermione, Harry told me that you're assigned to work with Malfoy on this case."

"Yeah," Hermione said, pulling the t-shirt on. "Diamond Brusly assigned him, because he's become the head of-"

"-Magical Calamities and Rescue Work, I know," Ron said. "But why him, I mean why not Hart?"

"Hart became the Head of Department of Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, and he hadn't prepared the report on the case six months back. Come on, I'll fix you something to eat."

"Why don't you say something?" Ron said, following her down to the kitchen. "Why don't you refuse? Can't somebody else do the job?"

"It's my working place, Ron, and besides, I'm just starting out in the department. I'll have to work on whatever they assign me to. And why are you taking it like this?"

"Like what?"

"Why are you getting so defensive about it? I don't think working with Malfoy would be so bad."

Ron stared at her as she pulled out a pan. "It wouldn't be so bad?" he repeated sarcastically.

"Look, I just meant-"

"What has gotten into you, Hermione?" Ron said. "Earlier this year, you went to Pansy Parkinson's marriage-"

"I went to Sean Haydon's marriage!" Hermione said hotly, breaking an egg in bowl. "He invited the whole of my department. Everyone was going-"

"But you went. Harry was invited too, remember? But he didn't."

"Only because Ginny fainted and he had to take her to St. Mungo's." Hermione said exasperatedly. "Come on Ron, how many times are you going to bring this up-"

"Then it was that one time when you let off Zabini for breaking the law about the elves-"

"He didn't break the law." Hermione said, getting angrier by the minute. "The elf had punished himself, on his own, like they are in habit of doing-"

"And then you had also gone to Lucius Malfoy's funeral-"

"I went with the Minister!" Hermione said loudly, finally losing it. "He took me with him. And Harry-"

"Harry's an auror, and he had to make an appearance." Ron said.

"Oh. He had to make an appearance and if I went or did anything pro-slytherin, _what has gotten into_ _you, Hermione_?" She said sarcastically. "We're not in school anymore, Ron, grow up-"

"You know what, I'm not hungry." Ron said dismissively and got up. Hermione turned her back to him angrily to flush the contents of the bowl down the drain in the sink. Ron left through the floo, angrily shouting-"The Burrow!" but till the flames had died completely in the grate, she didn't turn around to face the kitchen. She kept standing there, completely still, trying to calm herself down.

Sometimes she felt like killing him.

As she washed her hands in the sink, letting the water run more than was required, (it always calmed her down, the sound of rushing water) she thought how she will be able to live with him after the marriage. But there was no other option for them, even if they fought like hell; Hermione knew she cannot go anywhere else.

She was just going to leave the kitchen when she heard a tap. She looked at the window, from where the sound had come, and then went and opened it, recognizing Harry's white owl. The bird flew into the room and circled it once before stopping over Hermione in the air.

"What, Hedgwig?" Hermione said. The owl hooted once, and refused to sit down. Instead, it started hovering from place to place.

It took Hermione a moment to clear her head. And then she gasped.

It wasn't Hedgwig- Merlin, Hedgwig had been dead for years- how come she mistook this owl for Hedgwig- but wait, she had seen this owl before.

As the moments passed, Hermione paled. She hadn't just seen this owl; she was the one who had brought it. The motive had been to camouflage the correspondence, so that if anybody saw the owl landing near her and delivering her letters at a daily basis, nobody would suspect. Because Harry had the same kind of bird, except for the grey beak and eyes.

"Salamander," she called softly. The owl gave a hoot and descended down, it was still the same, as stubborn as his master. It landed softly, as it had always done, and Hermione moved forwards in a trance-like walk to touch its beak.

"How are you?" She said, tears gathering in her eyes at the prospect the bird had landed here with. She knew it, she had been expecting it, and there was one part of her which immensely relieved, happy even, to see the bird again after these years. Of course, it wasn't the bird; it was the person behind it.

She looked at the roll tied at its leg, and her heart jumped at the words- _Goran_.

Hermione's hands started shaking. She wasn't sure that she would be able to handle it now. The temptation.

She untied the roll jerkily and opened it. But it was nothing, just the Sunday newspaper in which she and Ron were on the front page. She stared at herself in the picture, kissing Ron. And then she sat down at the kitchen table, feeling weak. Why had he sent it?

But then her heart jumped again when she saw his handwriting.

_He is a lucky man_.

There were those words, right under the picture. And then she saw it. The letter, it was in the picture, in her pyjama pocket. That was why he had sent it. That's why he had sent the newspaper, because he had noticed the letter. Heart racing, she left the kitchen and ran up the stairs. Flinging open her cupboard door, she started searching. Where had she kept it after taking it off that day? But she couldn't find it. Irritated, she pulled down all the contents of the cupboard on the floor for better access. She sifted through them hurriedly, looking for it. And then her eyes landed on her wand on her bed. Why had she, as always, missed the obvious thing to do?

She hesitated for a moment. Then she raised her hand.

"_Accio Draco's letter_."

And from the direction of the laundry room, a folded parchment cam speeding towards her. She caught it, unbelieving, and then looked, as if to check.

There it was, the name he had given her- Goran.

* * *

Hey you :) Would love to hear what you think. Please leave a review. Constructive criticism needed!


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